


Too Cold To Hold

by mdtwn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, reaper au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdtwn/pseuds/mdtwn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Just make yourself at home." Liam had considered telling him earlier. But he decided that he didn’t need to. He already knew that Louis had.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>Liam is a reaper. Louis is the exception to a rule that he never knew he had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Cold To Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paynlinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paynlinson/gifts).



> unfashionably late to the lilo halloween fic exchange. 
> 
> based on the prompt: _Liam is a reaper and has the fabulous job of collecting souls and paving the way for a person's untimely demise. His latest assignment is Louis, a boy of 18, scheduled to be hit by a car on Saturday October 31st at 11:34pm. Only Liam can’t bring himself to do it. Maybe it’s the boys bright eyes or sweet smile._
> 
> enjoy!!
> 
> (title from the song "too cold to hold" by fake problems)

_too cold to hold_

 

* * *

 

 

A gust of wind trickled down the amber-lit street as Liam turned the corner, prompting him to shove his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he walked. He kept his head down, for the most part, as he brushed past mums and their children dressed in fantasies and dreams, smiling and chattering about the prospects of this year’s candy haul.

A flash of silver had him recalling one of his own childhood Halloweens when he and his dad spent the better part of the day covering cardboard boxes with tin foil. He remembered being so proud of their ingenuity that he immediately put the costume on and took off into the evening with his candy bag in tow, providing the old ladies on the block with his absolute best robot voice and dance routine at their doors. He’d filled up half of his bag when a group of older lads stopped him in his tracks, spitting insults about his homemade costume and snarling certain words that Liam didn’t yet understand before snatching his bag and shoving him into a puddle off the curb, completely ruining his robotic shell.

Such things were not atypical for Liam as a child, though. It seemed that once Liam hit puberty, he sprouted both body hair and some sort of bullying magnet that wouldn’t go away until he socked a bloke just beyond the school grounds with what felt like half of his class watching. Adrenaline gave way to guilt as he made his way home, hiding his bruised knuckles in the sleeve of his jumper, and vowing to never result to such mindless violence again. Because it bothered him, really, even though his bully deserved it.

Liam tended not to think about the past. He knew that there was this raw, untouched reservoir of grief that he’d carefully packaged and hidden away somewhere deep within himself and he was careful not to disturb it, lest he send ripples through the water. Though he prided himself on being much more introspective than he was when alive, there were some things that he just couldn’t bring himself to touch. That was a constant.

There wasn’t much consistency in Liam’s life, less so now than when he was actually alive. He didn’t understand much of anything anymore, and he found it best not to question it. It didn’t seem to bother him that sometimes, when he’d close his eyes, if only for a moment, he’d open them to find himself somewhere new. He’d just do his job and catch the next train home.

That was how he came to find himself on this street in some nameless town (in the north of England, if Liam’s limited knowledge of accents was accurate). He scanned the groups of mums and children that cluttered the sidewalk, trying for that twinge in his gut and that feeling of _knowing_ that would point him to his next assignment. A little girl – nine – destined to be murdered by some deranged man—so said the text he’d gotten a few minutes before.

At the start, Liam had to have a serious sit-down with himself to figure out if he’d really died and started getting texts from some unlisted number Beyond, or if he was actually just crazy. For the longest time he felt like he’d been experiencing the weirdest dream or the most ridiculous hallucination, but it quickly became clear that nobody could see or hear Liam, unless they were to die.

Excluding Zayn. Possibly.

A few months after Liam had finally settled into his new role, he’d taken residence in a shoddy, half-furnished one bedroom in east London, and neither the landlord nor the other residents seemed to take notice. He mused that one of the better parts of being in this weird sort of purgatory was that everything was free. He could just walk into a store and swipe a pack of smokes from behind the counter and the clerk would be none the wiser. So he spent his days chain-smoking and playing video games in his flat like a proper recluse, and so far he’d had minimal complaints.

It was one year prior – Halloween night – and Liam had spent it laying diagonally in his bed watching horror movies on his laptop and simultaneously shoveling copious amounts of fun-sized candies into his mouth. He was half an hour into some B-List, low budget clusterfuck when his eyes began to fall shut, like they did when he was to be transported elsewhere, which was odd, considering that he hadn’t been warned via text. There wasn’t much he could do besides pause the movie and close his eyes, and he opened them to find himself in a room reeking of earthy incense with candles lining most surfaces, namely some sort of effigy at Liam’s feet, with weird markings and herbs littered about. The most prominent feature of the room, however, was a bloke with messy hair and a burning cigarette between two fingers staring up wide-eyed at him, only breaking the stare to glance back down at the old, yellowing book in his lap in disbelief.

Liam, still confused as to what he was meant to be doing in a room that, upon further inspection, looked eerily like his own living room and was most likely in his own building, slipped his phone out of his pocket and ran through his texts again, seeing nothing about a lad his age with nice eyes and creepy candles. Thankfully, the other boy spoke before he did.

“Guess this book isn’t bullshit after all, yeah?” He breathed, oddly at ease, taking a drag of his cigarette around something of a smug smile, visible beneath the charcoal hair that flopped in his face. He lifted his head to make eye-contact with Liam again, who, upon later reflection, probably looked just as perplexed and terrified as he truly was.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” The boy teased, prompting Liam to force something of a weak smile onto his face. “And I reckon I’m the only one here who _actually_ has.”

“I—,” Liam was still glancing from the boy to his phone.

“Relax, yeah?” The other boy hummed, picking up the book in his lap and turning it to face Liam, the words, “ _Summoning a Spirit_ ” stretching across the page in faded ink. “I really didn’t think it would work…”

“I’m not a spirit,” Liam said a bit indignantly, pushing his phone back into his pocket. “I mean… At least I don’t think I am. I don’t know.”

The boy on the floor just hummed, closing the book in his lap and replacing it with a notebook littered with scribbles and doodles in the margins.

“Interesting. Mind helping me with my Alternative Religions report? I’ll make it worth your while,” He said, picking up a pack of cigarettes from the floor and holding it up to Liam as some sort of offering. Hesitantly, Liam plucked one from the pack and settled on the floor, on the other side of the effigy, peering over at the lad through a circle of candles.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. I probably don’t know much more than you do,” Liam admitted, his attention on the tip of his cigarette where he was holding it against a candle’s flame.

A long moment of silence passed and Liam sighed, trying to gather his thoughts in a way that wouldn’t make him sound like he belonged in some sort of institution.

“I get these unlisted text messages from… Someone. Somewhere... God, maybe. I don’t know,” He said around a something of a scowl, realizing how crazy he must have sounded, before placing the lit cigarette between his lips and taking a long drag. The smoke danced in the candlelight as he exhaled. “And I have to make sure that the people in those texts die.”

The boy in front of him just furrowed his eyebrows at that, his hair falling in front of his face as he flipped his notebook to a new page and began to mark it with his messy scrawl.

It didn’t take Liam’s neighbor, who he later found out was named Zayn, long before he was throwing out different examples of the personification of death, from the Hellenic _Thanatos_ to the westernized _Grim Reaper_. Liam supposed it made sense, although he was far from some angel of death, or a scythe-wielding skeleton in a tattered robe. His socks didn’t even match half the time, for christ’s sake.

However, thus began a friendship. Despite their strange meeting, Liam grew to trust Zayn as the months went by, much to his surprise. He quite liked being left alone, quite liked flying under the radar. But Zayn was possibly one of the kindest and smartest people he’d ever known, so he made an effort to exist around him. His flat—just two floors down from his own --was cluttered with books and half-burned candles and his ash trays were nearly overflowing with cigarette butts at any given moment, but it worked for him, especially given that he’d chosen to study the occult. Perhaps that was why they got on so well.

Liam was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by a passing group of children, too many to be controlled by the one frazzled mother, who was clearly very distracted, wrangling stray candy bags and costume pieces. His eyes fell on a young girl among the group, a blonde dressed in a pink Aurora dress, and that hot, sickly feeling of _knowing_ soon followed. He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time, as was his routine. Ten minutes until she was to die.

As grotesque and harsh as it may seem, Liam was not bothered in the slightest. After three years of having seen it all, he came to realize that though there seemed to be such a thing as fate, it was at times cruel and unfair, but always completely random. He’d witnessed the deaths of philanthropists and single mothers and even newlyweds mere days into their honeymoons, having a hand in tearing families and lives apart, but it didn’t bother him. He couldn’t allow it to. He’d never thought to intervene. He was afraid of what would happen if he did.

Liam continued to lurk on this street corner, his gaze moving from the little girl, who seemed to be eager to stray from her herd, and eyeing the parked cars that lined the street. He discovered a shadowy form reclined in the driver’s seat of the one adjacent to him and he leaned against the pole of the streetlight behind him, the freezing metal thoroughly chilling him through his hoodie as he awaited the inevitable.

His assignment had led him deep into the nearby woods. Liam trailed the pair from a distance, not caring to hear what was said or to see what was done. He settled against the sturdy trunk of an oak tree and waited, toeing at the damp earth in front of him until the man went rushing past him again, smoothing out his coat before stepping out of the tree line.

Liam then rose, following the trail of stomped-down grass to the silhouette of a mangled, motionless body. An instant after he’d appeared, an apparition rose from the shadows, a cloud of smoke that materialized into the form of a young girl, flushed completely pale, but still in her princess outfit. She peered up at Liam with wide, questioning eyes, her bottom lip quivering as if she were about to cry. Liam reached his hand out to her, offering her his kindest, warmest smile, wordlessly allowing her tiny fingers to slip through his own.

“Let’s get going, love,” Liam murmured after a moment, giving her hand a gentle tug, allowing her to step away from her body. The girl let out something of a whimper as both she and Liam began to fade into the darkness of the wood, their forms becoming more and more translucent as the moments wore on. Liam gave her hand a squeeze, a protective sort, just as he had with everyone else. It had long since become a routine, but Liam tried his best to stay warm and genuine, lest he forget the woman with cold, pained eyes who snatched him from his own body, more or less catatonic as she escorted him somewhere Beyond.

When Liam returned to the forest, the grass that had been matted down from foot traffic had started to regain its form. It took him a while to get his bearings, but he eventually found himself on the street again. He was a moment away from unlocking his mobile to search for the nearest train station when it lit up in the palm of his hand, the same empty contact and the same impersonal method of communication. ” _Louis Tomlinson. 18. Struck by car. 11:34 PM._ ”, the message read, vanishing from the screen as soon as Liam had seen it. He’d become so used to memorizing this succinct information that he only needed a momentary glance before he felt his eyes drooping, and he allowed them to fall shut.

 

* * *

 

 

Liam opened his eyes to find himself back in London—near his own neighborhood, in fact—just outside of a house that was absolutely crawling with university students. Bodies were spilling out from the front door and onto the street, clutching plastic cups that were sloshing alcohol as the teens (he cringed to even think of them as young adults) attempted to dance to the muffled music coming from indoors.

Except for narrowly dodging a group of women who definitely shouldn’t have worn heels that night (they would have just gone right through him, but it was instinct), Liam made his way into the house without any major developments. He felt indifferent to the situation, honestly. His only real worry was that it was going to be so fucking _difficult_ to locate the boy outlined in the text, what, with there easily being one hundred people crammed into this two story home.

Somehow his ears managed to adjust to the booming music and he had made his way through the living room, making an effort to squeeze through the pockets of air between groups of people in case his assignment was watching, the chatter around him nearly matching the volume of the speakers on the other side of the room. Liam hadn’t been to many parties while he was at school. It wasn’t that he wasn’t invited to them; if he was going to get drunk off his arse anyway, he preferred to stay in with a few mates. Liam never imagined that he, alcohol, and large crowds would be a particularly good combination.

He emerged from the crowd into the harsh fluorescent lighting that illuminated the kitchen. It wasn’t a particularly strategic decision. He just needed to catch his breath.

But it wouldn’t be coming back for a while, Liam found. His attention turned to the crowd he’d just left and his eyes zeroed in on a bloke that seemed to be approaching him, his hair in a soft brown fringe that didn’t do much to obfuscate the fact that he was looking straight _at_ Liam, not through him. His abdomen clenched in a way that set fire to his lungs and suddenly he was breathless again. He couldn’t determine whether it was because this was the boy he was looking for, or because this boy was possibly one of the most attractive human beings that he’d ever found his gaze to be locked with.

He knew that it was the boy in the text message-- Louis. That weird sickly feeling remained when the others quickly faded, and he knew it was so. Liam cursed himself for being so easily distracted. As the boy approached, Liam could see sharp cheekbones and a smirk (a _smirk_ ) he’d never seen outside of films, glinting with confidence and self-assurance that even the drunkest of uni teens could hardly possess.

On his way to Liam, however, Louis quickly changed course, diverting to the kitchen counter that was lined with bottles of alcohol, each at varying levels of fullness. Liam couldn’t see his hands, nor the cup that he was working on, and when the boy’s gaze shifted his way and realized that he was still staring, he immediately quirked an eyebrow up at him, causing Liam’s cheeks to flush hot and his eyes to dart off to the living room, immediately occupying himself with a couple that was dancing awkwardly in the center of it.

After a few moments he could see a form approaching him from his periphery, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it, lest he react like a fourteen year old again.

“Hey,” A high voice sounded beside him, and his head immediately turned, facing him with Cheekbones again, cerulean eyes peering up through long lashes with a plastic cup in each dainty hand, half-filled with some sort of unidentifiable amber liquid. He held one out to Liam and his eyebrows furrowed slightly when he hesitated. “Not sketchy, I promise. You watched me make it.”

His words had Liam diverting his gaze again, his lips cracking into an embarrassed smile. Because, yeah. He had. Whoops.

“Thanks,” He murmured, taking the cup from Louis with an appreciative nod. He let his eyes rake over the boy beside him over the rim of the glass as he took a sip, his gaze barely flickering from the burn of the alcohol as it slid down to his stomach. “Looked like I needed it, huh?”

“Just a bit,” He agreed cheekily, his eyes dancing off to the living room for a moment before settling on Liam again. “So you know Niall, then? Don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” He said, and Liam mused there was a silent ‘and trust me, I would have,’ tacked onto the end of it, if the way he was leaning into him was any sort of indicator. He assumed that this ‘Niall’ was the lad that appeared in each picture on the fridge he was leaning against—the blonde with the constant smile –and he glanced back to them as he tried to come up with some sort of lie.

“We’ve got mutual friends, yeah,” Liam answered, watching the way that Louis’ adams apple bobbed as he took a swig from his cup. “I don’t really go out much.”

The boy at his side hummed at that, nodding through the obvious wincing from the liquor.

“Me neither,” He said, his smile growing just a bit when Liam shifted to face him. God, he was so young. The text said that he was eighteen, but he had this youthful glow and this way about him that made him seem a bit younger—not in age, but in spirit. “I only come out for the big parties.”

“Why isn’t anyone here dressed up?” Liam asked after a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced around the living room again. “It’s a Halloween party, isn’t it?”

Louis shrugged.

“I thought about it, but then I was like, ‘wouldn’t it be awful to be the only bloke that turned up in a costume?’” He replied, eyes and nose crinkling with his smile, even more so with an afterthought. “This isn’t much of a Halloween party.”

Liam smiled as well, taking another gulp of his drink for some sort of courage.

“We could get out of here, if you want,” He offered, shooting a quick glance back at the door, just barely visible through the sea of bodies in the living room. Louis huffed a laugh at this, eyebrows raised as he feigned shock.

“I’m not that _easy_ , babe,” He said a bit sing-song-y. “Don’t even know your name.”

Liam could feel his cheeks flush (literally _flush_ ) at that, because, duh, how could he forget to introduce himself? When he was seducing people for the sole purpose of leading them to their death, he usually had them eating out of the palm of his hand within seconds, but he was so inexplicably off of his game tonight that it took a second for him to react with a laugh, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

“Sorry, sorry,” He muttered around a nervous chuckle, clearing his throat and extending his hand to the other boy. “I’m Liam Payne,”

Louis transferred his drink to his left hand so he could take Liam’s with a smile, his baby blues twinkling as he gave it a squeeze and a quick shake. “Louis Tomlinson.”

And Liam knew that he was fucked.

 

* * *

 

 

Liam was _absolutely certain_ that he was fucked just twenty minutes later, when he was three drinks deep and delightfully buzzed, pressed up against a wall with a hand gripping Louis’ soft waist as he tilted his chin up to catch his lips on the stretch of skin below Liam’s ear. It was so dimly lit and densely packed in this hallway that Liam supposed that no one would notice Louis attempting to make out with the air. And if they did, oh well—it may make for an interesting headline the next morning: Uni Boy Seen Drunkenly Groping Air before Being Struck by Car.

He had a few minutes left before he had to lead Louis out, so he might as well have fun while he can.

A hum radiated from his throat as Louis’ teeth grazed his neck, a fragile hand creeping up Liam’s torso to cup his jaw, keeping him still so he could properly latch on, sucking a mark where Liam’s stubble faded out into skin. His lips quirked up in a smile when Louis pulled away to test his reaction, the stretch of his facial muscles casing the mark to pulse with a muted, dull pain. He supposed it would show. Arsehole.

“I get this feeling that you’re a real pain in the arse,” Liam said, smile wide and eyes glinting with fondness, his hand moving from Louis’ waist to grab his arse and pull him closer. “Am I right?”

He could feel Louis’ breath splay over his lips for just a moment before the hand at his jaw pulled him in to close the distance between them, Louis choosing not to dignify Liam’s comment with a response for now. Liam’s unoccupied hand joined the other on Louis’ arse, gripping it tight and pulling him closer, causing Louis to rise up on his toes to meet Liam’s lips again.

“I am,” The younger of the two breathed out between kisses, dissolving into winded laughter. Liam seized the opportunity to catch Louis’ bottom lip with his teeth and Louis exhaled suddenly, pressing his hips up to get some kind of friction against Liam’s thigh. Liam could feel the outline of Louis’ stiffening cock where his abdomen met his thigh and Louis just _had_ to pull away from Liam’s mouth to catch his breath, swollen, bitten lips parted around his panting, the skin around them tinged raw from Liam’s stubble. Still, his lust-blown pupils held a glint of mischievousness as he moved back in, a thick thigh pressed tight against the line of Liam’s cock in his jeans. “You ought to teach me a lesson,” he murmured then, his arms moving to drape over Liam’s shoulders and his hands sliding up the back of his neck, grasping at what little hair they could as Louis’ mouth started an assault at Liam’s neck again.

Liam inhaled sharply and let his head fall back against the wall behind him, his hands moving up Louis’ sides beneath his t-shirt, his skin soft and warm with just the right amount of give under his grip. He visualized purple fingertip bruises against his sun-kissed skin on Liam’s white linen sheets and he could feel himself slipping, dizzy with the burn of Louis sucking a fresh bruise into his flesh.

He felt Louis press against his mobile in his pocket and his eyes shot open, pulse spiking when it dawned on him that he had to take this boy outside, somehow lead him into the road.

“We should get out of here,” Liam suggested once again, pulling his hands away from the warmth of Louis’ skin, the bruises on his neck thrumming with his pulse as Louis untangled himself from him.

“Thought you’d never ask, Payno,” Louis replied with what Liam was sure was the most adorable smile he’d ever seen in his life—and his afterlife as well. The smaller boy wrapped a hand around Liam’s wrist and led him along the winding hallways, and Liam felt like he was dragging behind him, too consumed with a mixture of arousal and fondness that time seemed to run slowly.

“Do you live far from here?” Louis asked when they reached the main artery of the home, dodging a pair of blokes who were each carrying three cases of beer, obstructing their view from any opposing foot traffic.

Liam snapped out of his trance and explained that he lived in a building just a few streets down, only half-paying attention to Louis’ comment about being thankful that they wouldn’t have to shag in his tiny dorm room.

They soon made it out of the crowded house and Louis gripped Liam tightly as they started down the stairs, careful not to face-plant into the concrete path that cut through the lawn. By now the party was in full-swing so the lawn was nearly deserted, eerily silent apart from the thumping of the bass in the building that they had just exited. Liam released Louis’ hand to slide his mobile from his pocket and check the time—11:33 pm, just one minute before Louis was destined to die.

Liam stopped walking when they reached the curb, slipping his phone back into his pocket as Louis continued out into the street. Liam didn’t think it would be this easy, but he was glad of it—it was late and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to wander home and jerk off, stuff his face with the candies that he nicked from the store across the street, and then repeat.

“You coming, Li-am?” Louis called from the adjacent curb, sing-songing his name as he stumbled back into the street, a dopey, lovely, _lovely_ smile stretched across his lips as he started back. He knew that this was definitely not the time to get all Shakespearean about it, but Louis was a person who just seemed to glow. His skin looked so golden under the luminescence of the street lights that Liam had to momentarily peel his eyes away, like he’d been staring at the sun. And staring at him left him with a fire in his belly, a slow, gentle burn that consumed him from the inside—First a flutter in his chest, then eventually a thrumming in his fingertips.

Liam spotted the beams of headlights peeking over the distant hill at the end of the street in his periphery and time seemed to still, his eyes darting from Louis to the glint of the amber street light against the chrome bumper of a car recklessly speeding through this residential neighborhood.

Liam pushed off of the curb, the rubber soles of his trainers scraping against the concrete, and the next thing he knew, he was face-down in the middle of the asphalt, skin tingling with the rush of air from the car that blew right through him.

He was up on his knees within a millisecond, rushing over to where Louis was shoved into the curb. His eyes were wide and moving from the ground in front of him to Liam, one hand cradling the elbow that had collided with the curb, and the other trembling, matching the quiver of his jaw.

“You—You,” Louis stuttered, blinking rapidly, clambering up onto his knees to wrap his arms around Liam, holding him impossibly tightly. “Oh my god,” He murmured nonsensically into Liam’s shoulder, a shaky breath wrecking his body as Liam’s arms secured themselves around Louis’ middle, his own eyes wide with shock, his pulse thrumming beneath his skin. “Are you okay?”

Liam didn’t have the breath in him to answer. He’d never done that before-- never interfered with one of his assignments like that. Didn’t think it was possible, even. He just thought that fate was fate and it couldn’t be altered. He’d never even _thought_ to interfere before, but here he was, holding a living, breathing boy in his arms, rubbing over his back as Louis shuddered, swallowing down a shaky breath that was bobbing at the top of his throat.

“That was so _fucking_ scary. Jesus,” Louis said, still clutching at Liam’s hoodie, knuckles white and unwilling to let go.

“I know,” Liam replied, his voice weak in his throat, his eyes now darting around, half-expecting the car to turn around and come barreling down the street again. He peeled himself from Louis and rose shakily to his feet, offering Louis his hands to help him up. He was still visibly trembling, studying Liam with his wide, teary eyes in a shadowy patch of the street before wrapping his arms around him again, asking Liam to just stay like this a minute until he calmed down.

Liam held Louis close, a hand running soothingly through his hair, whispering a promise of “Hey, you’re okay,” against his temple, though he was completely unsure of whether it was true or not. Liam was tense, still glancing up and down the street and finding the neighborhood just as serene as ever.

“I’m cold,” Louis said with a sniffle as he pulled away, his arms folded around himself in such a way that he looked impossibly smaller. A smile broke his tear-swollen features as Liam unzipped his hoodie and passed it over to him. When he began to slip his left arm into it, he hissed, pulling his arm out to inspect it with a frown. His elbow was skinned and bloody and Louis winced as he brushed away the traces of dirt that were caked into his wounds.

“Should I take you home so you can clean that?” Liam asked, his stomach sinking as he watched Louis carefully (though uselessly) tend to his wound before slowly putting his arm into the sleeve of Liam’s hoodie, following suit with the other.

Louis shook his head, using the sleeve of Liam’s hoodie to smear the channels that his tears had left down his cheeks.

“No,” Louis said softly, taking a deep breath and letting the sleeves slip over his hands. “I want to stay with you—if that’s alright, I mean.”

Liam smiled and pulled Louis into his arms again, murmuring a soft, “Of course,” into Louis’ hair.

When they started down the street, Louis let his fingers slip into the spaces between Liam’s, swinging his hand just slightly as they walked. Liam bristled again, wanting to rip his fingers from Louis’ grip because his automatic reaction to hand-holding was death. Moving on.

They remained silent and Liam listened to the scrape of Louis’ footsteps, treading a bit heavier than his own, even though he was smaller.

“Thank you so much, Liam,” Louis finally said as they rounded a corner onto a more populated street, the night coming alive with the light from the windows of 24-hour shops and the buzz of music from the open doors of pubs with old drunks slumped against their exteriors, features illuminated by the burning embers of their cigarettes. “I know I can be dramatic, but I _really_ think I nearly died,” He added, a soft smile spreading across his lips when Liam glanced over at him.

 _You have no idea_ , Liam thought, returning Louis’ smile and giving his hand a squeeze. He silently prayed that his and Louis’ bodies wouldn’t begin to fade into mist.

“You don’t have to thank me, Louis,” Liam said with a soft chuckle, stopping a bit farther from the edge of the curb than he normally would as he waited to cross the street.

“Well, I’m going to,” Louis said as they stepped out into the street, yanking Liam out of the path of a person walking the opposite way, the taller boy still distractedly beaming over at Louis. “I’m going to say it until you get sick of me.”

“I would never,” Liam scoffed, stumbling back into place next to Louis.

“So there won’t be that whole awkward, ‘I wanna kick you out, but I don’t wanna look like an arsehole’ dance at the end of the night, then?” Louis asked, eyebrows raised, and Liam couldn’t for the life of him understand why anyone would want to kick him out.

“Of course not. I’m a gentleman.” Liam replied, feigning offense, his free hand placed over his chest, scandalized.

Louis grinned at that, his eyes darting off to take in the atmosphere around him. They had just turned onto another side street, as still as death at this hour, with slumbering cars lining the curb, and between them and the sidewalk, scrawny trees-- that no one could probably name—beginning to shed their leaves for the winter, leaving the sidewalk with a certain crunch that graced it only a few months out of the year.

Most buildings were cloaked with shadows and the few lights that remained were glistening against the pavement, damp from a recent drizzle. But of course, it was London—Was it really that remarkable that it had rained? Liam couldn’t say that he disliked the street that he lived on. He liked the dead silence of the night and the gently humming city noise of the day. But he also couldn’t say that he liked the way the angle of the lights were turning the hollows of Louis’ cheeks into caverns.

Liam eventually led Louis to a building made of off-white stone, in some places stained with large copper blemishes from water damage. The cement stairs preceding the main entrance were cracked and sagging—Zayn swore that he’d done in the second from the bottom with the steel toe of his boot –and the place was sort of falling apart, but to Liam, it was the closest thing he’d felt to home in years. Even the obnoxious fluorescents at the entrance that were crawling with moths at any given moment and casting an eerie white-blue glow that spilled out into the street.

Liam unlocked the door, jiggled the handle just so, so the metal grate swung away from them with a groan.

“Do you reckon this place is haunted?” Louis asked with a wicked grin, trailing Liam to the atrium of the building. Liam’s expression was nothing short of comical as his finger twitched reaching for the button to call the lift and he was glad that Louis couldn’t see it.

“Dunno. Maybe,” Liam replied, his gaze adverting to the peeling floral wallpaper that surrounded them. “That would explain why the wifi is shit.”

Louis snorted and settled into Liam’s side, his head on his shoulder, smugly eyeing the bruises that he’d sucked into his skin. They were silent for a long moment with only the soundtrack of the lift as it descended, whirring and rattling until it stopped with a sudden clank. The bell that announced its arrival, loud as fucking shit, echoed through the building and each boy had winced, fingers placed over ears as they entered the lift. It was a wonder Liam wasn’t deaf by now, honestly.

Liam pressed the ‘4’ and wrapped his arms around Louis’ middle from behind, pulling him to where he was leaning back against the wall. He met Louis’ glance in the gold clouded reflective surface on the opposite wall and he couldn’t help but smile, pressing a kiss just behind Louis’ ear.

“I think we’re gonna die in this elevator,” Louis said, though seemingly unconcerned, simply tipping his head back onto Liam’s shoulder. “If that happens, I just want you to know that I think you’re a very nice lad.”

Liam smiled at that, a chuckle emanating against Louis’ neck.

“I think you’re a very nice lad as well,” Liam admitted, eyeing the way his chevron tattoos stretched perfectly across Louis’ stomach. “And we’re not gonna die. I’ve seen at least twelve people cram in here at once before and they were perfectly fine.” Louis laughed before his expression settled into something quizzical, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.

“I feel safe with you,” Louis said just a moment before the lift creeped to a stop on Liam’s floor, clicking into place and sending that god-awful ding reverberating through the metal box.

Liam winced, and for more than one reason. “ _I quite like the idea of saving people_ ,” he recalled himself saying to his mum just a matter of years ago.

Louis wrapped a slender hand around his wrist and pulled Liam out into the hallway, the bell from the lift still ringing in their ears. Liam led him down to the very end, the floorboards creaking under their feet as they walked, and Louis watched with an amused expression on his face as Liam worked to jiggle the doorknob and key in just the right way that the old door would eventually give.

Once inside, Liam began his routine of toeing off his shoes and simultaneously groping around for the light switch just beside the door, eventually illuminating the room from the single light dangling from the living room ceiling. Louis followed suit, his vans knocking against Liam’s trainers when he had finally kicked them off.

“Nice socks, babe,” Louis said, gesturing to Liam’s socks (one black and one pink, the result of a load of laundry gone awry) with only minimal sarcasm, as he hopped up onto the kitchen counter. His bare ankles knocked against the wood and Louis took advantage of their close distance to nudge Liam’s stomach with his foot, eyes glinting with mischievousness as he leaned in close to him, resting his palms on his denim-clad knees. “Wanna help me tend my wounds now, Doctor Payne?” He asked, gesturing to his elbow.

In a brief moment of selfishness, Liam had a passing thought that he didn’t quite want to see Louis without his hoodie on, afraid that he’d miss the way that the sleeves fell over his hands or how the hem fell just a bit lower on him than it did on Liam, made him look like he was going to drown in it.

However, Liam moved around the counter and into the kitchen, watching out of the corner of his eye as Louis lifted up his legs and maneuvered around on his bum, narrowly avoiding knocking off Liam’s assortment of fruit that was placed so perfectly in the trajectory of his left foot. Liam grabbed a cloth from the rack—clean, thankfully—and ran the tap to wet it as Louis slipped Liam’s hoodie off, inspecting his scraped elbow.

Liam wheeled around and, upon noticing Louis picking at the scabbing, stepped forward to swat his hand away. He pressed the warm, damp cloth to Louis’ elbow and Louis hissed, his lips pressed into a tight line. Liam’s free hand cradled Louis’ bicep and his thumb rubbed gently over the taught muscle as he softened the dirty scab, cleaning away the excess of dried blood with each tender dab of the cloth. The skin around the wound was still pink and raw with road rash when Liam pulled away, and he knew from countless falls as a child that it really, really hurt, so he lifted Louis’ elbow to press a soft kiss to it.

Liam watched Louis’ eyes soften, no longer bearing the razor-sharp edge of his wicked smirk, the pools of blue drinking Liam in as Liam’s same dumb, fond smile worked its way across his lips. Remarkably, the moment was all but lost when Louis seized the opportunity of his hand being so close to Liam’s face by flicking his forehead in such a manner that it made an audible noise, only causing Liam to grow more impossibly smiley and more impossibly fond.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Louis huffed, trying (and failing) to hold back the grin that was threatening to break his lips as he hopped down off of the counter, bare feet padding across the linoleum to Liam’s fridge.

“Can I help you with something?” Liam asked, bemused, his head cocked to the side a bit as he watched Louis swing his refrigerator door open.

“Nah, just trying to get to know you better,” Louis answered, continuing before Liam could even collect his thoughts enough to respond. “You can learn a lot about a man by what he keeps in his fridge, you know. And if I come across a body cut up into a million tiny pieces, I’ll know to fucking run.”

Of course Liam would manage to pull a nutter on his first try in years.

“What is all this green shit, Liam?” Louis asked after rummaging around a bit, his activities still concealed from Liam by the refrigerator door.

“Those would be vegetables.” Liam replied, pushing off of the counter after having tried to hold off on going over to see what kind of havoc Louis was wreaking in his fridge. When he appeared beside Louis on the other side of the door, Louis had a red bull in one hand and had pulled open Liam’s vegetable drawer with the other, eyeing the bags of leafy greens in horror.

“Wanna know what’s in my fridge?” Louis asked, easing the drawer closed with his foot and stepping out so he could close the fridge entirely. “Beer and cheese. Now _that’s_ a man’s fridge.” He explained as he walked off to inspect Liam’s living room with his _stupid_ hips swaying behind him.

“Is that why you’re so short, then? Didn’t eat your vegetables growing up?” Liam asked with his eyebrows raised, trailing behind him, past the small mountain of pizza boxes by the entrance to the kitchen and into his living room. Louis had just opened his red bull and was mid-sip when he wheeled around, gulping down what he had in his mouth before he spat back at Liam.

“Oi, I’m tall where it counts, alright?” He squeaked out indignantly, his lips then curling into a smirk. “Wish I could say the same for you, love.”

Liam just laughed, exasperated, and plopped down on his sagging, shit-colored couch, collapsing against the back.

“You came home with the intention of sleeping with me and now you’re insulting my manhood. I can’t believe this.” Liam said, wiping his eyes, though still unable to wipe the stupid grin off of his face, because he was absolutely sure that Louis could verbally abuse him until he broke and he would still be dumbly infatuated with him.

“Aw, did I offend little Liam?” Louis crooned with a fake pout, placing his drink on the coffee table and moving to straddle Liam’s hips. He draped his arms over Liam’s shoulders and settled into his lap, his devious smile returning just inches from Liam’s face.

“Not at all,” Liam said nonchalantly, glancing down to his crotch, though his view of it was currently obscured by Louis’ arse. The thought caused “little” Liam to stir, though he wouldn’t give Louis the satisfaction of knowing that. “He knows you’re full of shit.”

Louis barked a laugh at that, one hand moving to cup Liam’s jaw and his other thumb pressing lightly against Liam’s lower lip.

“We’ll see if he proves me wrong.” Louis murmured, hovering dangerously close. Liam was a bit annoyed with referring to his penis as a separate entity from his body--though it felt like it was at times--and he was slowly beginning to learn that the only surefire way to shut Louis up was to occupy his mouth with something else, so he tilted his jaw up to kiss him, his hands splaying over Louis’ thick thighs and slowly inching up the denim.

Louis responded eagerly, like he’d been waiting for this the entire time, letting a delighted hum escape his throat as his eyes fell shut and his free hand steadied himself against Liam’s sturdy chest. Even though Liam felt like he was drowning in Louis in the best possible way, he tried not to let himself show it, instead gripping Louis’ arse with both of his hands, causing Louis to gasp into the kiss.

“Hands off the goods.” Louis muttered before pulling back to reach behind him and grab each of Liam’s wrists, pinning them against the wall above his head before he had even had the chance to breathe. Liam just blinked up at him with the air thoroughly knocked out of his lungs, sure that he was about to be so deeply betrayed by his cock that it wasn’t even worth fighting. He breathed out a small, “Fuck”, when Louis pressed his arse down against it, unsure whether to be turned on or terrified by the way his lips turned up into a grin.

“Keep ‘em up.” Louis instructed, his eyes lingering on one of Liam’s bulging biceps, and for a moment Liam thought that he was considering sinking his teeth into it. He kind of wished he would. Instead, he stood up from the couch and sunk down to his knees in front of it, gently easing Liam’s legs apart so he could fit in the space between them. Liam’s hands balled into fists above his head when Louis ran a hand over the line of his cock in his jeans and his lips pressed to a tight line when Louis squeezed it, only relieving a fraction of the pressure that Liam was feeling at the moment.

He brought his other hand up to undo the button and zipper of Liam’s jeans, having the older boy lift his hips so he could tug them down past his knees. Liam swallowed, trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest as Louis leaned down and pressed a series of warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses to his cock through his boxers. He started at the base and moved achingly slowly along the line of his cock, glancing up at Liam through his lashes each time he left a painfully teasing kiss, a slip of pink tongue peeking out as he sucked the head of Liam’s cock into his mouth through the fabric, letting it fall from his mouth just when Liam had felt the warmth close around him.

It wasn’t like had Liam had lost all semblance of memory from what is life was like before he died, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember the inside of a mouth feeling _that_ fucking good.

Louis hooked his fingers under the waistband of Liam’s boxers and tugged them down to join his jeans, eyeing Liam’s cock as it sprung up. It was Liam’s turn to feel smug as Louis uttered a soft, “shit”, under his breath before taking Liam’s cock into his hand, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he eased Liam’s foreskin back over the tip. He placed a chaste kiss to it before moving down to kiss along Liam’s shaft, his tongue flat and sliding achingly slowly along the trajectory of his lips. Liam sucked in a deep breath through his nose, exhaling softly as Louis’ lips worked over him, holding and kissing him so gently that Liam nearly forgot that the hand that was cradling his cock was one of the hands that pinned his to the wall above his head only a short time ago.

By now Liam was so hard that his foreskin was pulled taught against his shaft and had left the head exposed, and Louis licked out over it, still so, so slowly that Liam wanted to scream, but he didn’t. A strange half-moan, half-grunt ended up coming from his throat, though, and Louis dug his tongue into his slit just to hear it again.

“I think I’m supposed to be teaching you a lesson, if I remember correctly.” Liam said, voice cracking at the end of his sentence because Louis had sealed his lips around the tip of his cock. He pulled off with a smirk, his free hand moving to flick his fringe from his eyes, lips still dangerously close and warm, breath splaying over Liam’s cock.

“We’ve got all night, haven’t we?” Louis asked, not bothering to wait for an answer before sucking Liam’s tip back into his mouth. He rocked his jaw down, his tongue turning up on the way back, and Liam’s hands dropped between the back of his head and the wall, eyes falling shut as Louis worked the head of his cock. He didn’t pay nearly as much attention to it on his own, too sensitive for it, but he couldn’t stop himself from sighing blissfully, letting his head tilt back and bear the column of his throat as he just allowed himself to _feel_.

Apparently, Liam had been inside of his own head too long for Louis’ liking, because Louis reached up to tweak Liam’s nipple through his shirt, hard, causing Liam to yelp. His eyes shot open and his gaze was met with a glare from the boy below him that melted into determination. He was going to make Liam bloody pay attention.

Louis sucked in a deep breath through his nose and kept his eyes fixed on Liam, his challenging glare only intensifying as he sunk all the way down on Liam’s cock. His throat spasmed around Liam, producing the loveliest gagging sound Liam had ever heard, and he almost felt guilty for liking it so much. Almost.

Louis stayed down until he couldn’t any longer before pulling off of Liam and continuing to work his spit-soaked cock with his hand, the other coming up to delicately swipe his fringe from where it had fallen in front of his eyes. Liam’s cock twitched in Louis’ hand when he got a proper look at him, having to bite hard on the inside of his mouth because Louis looked so fucking _wrecked_ and he hadn’t even had his mouth on Liam’s cock for more than a minute or two. Louis’ lips were red and slightly swollen, matching his flushed cheeks, and he was panting, trying to catch his breath. He seemed to be unconcerned with the fact that the corners of his mouth were shining from spit that had begun to seep out towards his chin. His baby blue eyes were ringed with tears from fighting his gag reflex, but he was grinning, head cocked to the side a bit as he stared up at Liam, no doubt amused by the look on his face.

“You have such a nice cock, Liam,” Louis said as innocently as one could in this situation with his raspy, fucked-out voice, knowing it would drive Liam crazy, and it did. Liam moaned when Louis sealed his lips around the head, sucking in a breath as he watched Louis begin to work again. The smaller boy locked eyes with him and let out a moan around his cock, long lashes casting lovely shadows over his cheekbones as he closed his eyes and began to sink down further with each motion. Liam wanted nothing more than to thread his fingers through Louis’ soft-looking hair and completely obliterate his carefully sculpted hairstyle, but he kept his hands up behind his head, his wrists pressed so hard into the material of the couch that they were beginning to sweat.

Louis pulled off a bit and began licking and sucking at Liam’s tip again, one hand working the rest of his length while the other was pressed to Liam’s thigh, his thumb rubbing idly over a stretch of skin dangerously close to Liam’s balls. Liam didn’t know how much more of Louis’ moaning and slurping he could take, honestly. Watching his pretty little mouth stretch to accommodate him and hearing the little grunts and moans he was enticing from him and feeling each microscopic ridge of his soft tongue as it relentlessly worked over him… It was almost too much.

Liam was just about to warn Louis of his impending orgasm when Louis pulled off completely, his hand unmoving on Liam’s shaft, just holding him still. Liam swallowed down a groan, trying to control his breathing and calm himself down as Louis peered up at him, licking over his lips before he spoke the words that would have knocked Liam flat on his arse if he weren’t already sitting down.

“You’re gonna come on my face.”

Not a question, not a suggestion, but a command.

Louis began moving his hand over Liam’s spit-soaked length again, his jaw falling slack and revealing his lovely pink tongue. Liam assumed that that was what he should be aiming for, but as soon as he started to come, Louis aimed the head of his dick at the hollow of one of his cheekbones, eyes falling shut as Liam came over his face in hot pulses. The first glob slipped into the hollow of Louis’ left cheek and Louis turned just a bit so that the next would hit his right, and then the rest that followed dripped over Louis’ lips and into his waiting mouth, where he held it as he gazed up at Liam.

Liam’s dick was too sensitive for the way that Louis’ hand was still working him, slowly and greedily trying to squeeze as much as he could out of his orgasm, but he didn’t care. His chest was still heaving and it felt like his mind was everywhere all at once, but mostly on Louis and the way he looked with his pink-tinged sunkissed skin streaked with white. Liam couldn’t help but grin, partially giddy from the orgasm but mostly just from Louis, and he let out a soft, “Holy shit”, beaming down at this crazy, beautiful boy who was, by some miracle, into him.

And Louis giggled, fucking _giggled_ , as he swallowed the load in his mouth and licked up what remained around his lips and on his fingers, finally scooping the rest from his cheeks with his thumb and sucking it into his mouth. Liam must have had the most ridiculous look on his face, but he didn’t care, he just let his arms drop to his sides, completely useless in his post-orgasmic glow.

Louis tucked his cock back into his boxers and clambered up into his lap again, still smiling when he went to kiss Liam. Liam had gained back enough brain function to voice his appreciation, but Louis was already kissing him, so he showed it by kissing back with such fervor that it pulled a startled noise from Louis’ throat that settled into a laugh.

“That was incredible,” Liam murmured against his lips as Louis pulled back, resting his forehead against the other boy’s. “ _You’re_ incredible.”

Louis laughed, pressing forward to kiss Liam again.

“Will you have a round two in you anytime soon, old man?” Louis teased, his thumb grazing the scruff on Liam’s chin. “Or are you gonna fall asleep on me?”

“Hey,” Liam furrowed his eyebrows, feigning offence. “I’m not old.”

Louis just playfully rolled his eyes and kissed Liam’s pout away, his fingers raking through Liam’s buzzed hair, causing him to relax into it, lips moving slowly and lazily, feeling completely stated from his orgasm.

It wasn’t that he _forgot_ about Louis, but Louis seemed to think so. He kissed Liam harder, pressing the line of his half-hard cock against Liam’s abdomen and letting out something of a wine.

“Hey,” he said between kisses, untangling his arms from where they were wrapped around Liam to grab the other boy’s hands, placing them on the curve of his arse and squeezing. “D’you want this?”

Liam’s eyes shot open then, and he nodded, unsure if it was particularly frantic or lazy, but it caused Louis’ eyebrows to raise. Louis smirked, leaning down to steal another kiss before pulling off of Liam completely, grabbing his drink from the coffee table, and padding off towards Liam’s bedroom. Liam remained glued to the couch for a moment, a dopey grin slowly spreading across his features as he stood, pulled his jeans back up, and went to join Louis in the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

 

“Nine out of ten,” Louis said breathlessly, grinning, his tanned skin flushed and glistening with a sheen of sweat. “And I only say that ‘cause me leg got a cramp about halfway through.”

“Is that what all the biting was about?” Liam laughed, equally sweaty and even more flushed, glancing over to Louis where he’d flopped down next to him. “You should limber up next time.”

“Oh, of course, Liam. Just let me do fifty squats and lunges before you shag me. That’ll _really_ set the mood.” Louis muttered sarcastically, and Liam would be lying if he said that the mental image of Louis doing squats wasn’t the least bit appealing.

After a few minutes of quietly lounging and lazily kissing, Louis got up and wiggled into his briefs before starting into the kitchen to get a beer. Liam watched as he walked out and then stood, his spine cracking as he stretched, and pulled on his boxers as well, digging through the pockets of his jeans to fish out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

He settled back onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, pulling a cigarette from the pack and placing it between his lips. He could see Louis’ silhouette approaching the doorway over the flame of his lighter as he lit the stick between his fingers. He took in a long, smooth drag as Louis appeared inside the room again with Liam’s hoodie on and a beer in each sleeve-covered hand. Liam met Louis’ smile with one of his own as he exhaled, having to almost immediately take another drag because he was honestly so gone for this radiant, crazy boy that he’d only met a couple of hours ago.

“What’re you looking at?” Louis sneered, trying to suppress a smile, but the crinkles by his eyes were surely giving him away. He passed Liam one of the beers in his hands. “Got you one too. Blokes need to make sure they stay hydrated at your old age, after all.” He raised an eyebrow up at Liam as he took a swig from his beer, smugly smiling over at him once he’d swallowed.

“I’m twenty one, Louis.” Liam said with a laugh, his stomach churning just a bit upon the realization that he’d given Louis the age that he was when he died, his physical age, and not his actual age. It didn’t really matter, he reckoned, because nothing about his appearance had really changed since the night that he died. He still had that god-awful buzz cut. However, he supposed he was thankful that he’d died with this length of his facial hair—more than stubble, but not a quite a beard.

Liam had to deeply inhale the smoke from his cigarette once more because the butterflies in his stomach hadn’t yet gone down and he couldn’t remember the last time that he’d ever felt this way, simultaneously elated and slightly terrified. He was used to more or less having control (though that had been much more suited to his previous life), to knowing what exactly was going to happen and when, but Louis was completely unpredictable. It was exciting. He didn’t understand why he felt this strongly about someone that he, honestly, didn’t know very much about. But it made him want to know everything—he wanted to stay up all night, just listening to the other boy talk, learning absolutely everything there is to know about him.

“What’re you studying in school?” Liam asked after a moment, reaching over to his bedside table to tap the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray.

“Drama,” Louis replied, leaning back against the headboard. “Are you at all surprised?”

Liam chuckled, replying that he wasn’t. He let Louis shift until he was nestled into his side, running the fingers of one hand through the smaller boy’s hair and alternating between smoking and sipping his beer with the other as he listened to Louis talk. He spoke of his love of teaching and his love of theatre and how he intended to combine them someday and inspire children to participate in the arts. He spoke of how it may have seemed a bit cliché, but theatre had saved his life.

Liam could relate, though. He could still recall that moment of inspiration when he realized that he wanted to be a firefighter, when he’d found his life’s purpose. He’d had this weird fixation on “purpose” once he’d gotten out of school. He fucked around at uni for a while, thought he wanted to study _history_ , of all things, but then he realized that uni wasn’t for him, so he moved back home and began training to become a firefighter. So he understood the feeling of _finally_ getting to start preparing for what you truly want to do with your life. He was glad that Louis, at least, would get to experience what came after.

They shared stories of their families, bonding over having annoying sisters and mums who were a bit overprotective of their boys. Louis got rather quiet when Liam asked about his dad, and Liam immediately felt immensely guilty, because he’d nearly forgotten that some people didn’t have as strong of a relationship with their father as he had with his.

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Louis said, finishing off the rest of his beer and setting the empty bottle on the bedside table. He told Liam about how his stepdad, who he’d more or less considered to be his dad, was divorcing his mum. “I know it’s kind of childish, but sometimes it feels like I’m not enough for anyone, you know?” Louis murmured in a way that Liam was unsure if it was directed at him or not, turning his face in to Liam’s shoulder.

“You can’t always be.” Liam replied, though he wanted to say that Louis was enough for him, at least for right now.

It was quiet for a moment, the only audible sounds coming from the apartment below (or to the left—Liam could never really tell). Louis sighed, wrapping his arm around Liam’s middle. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get all proper emo about it,” He mumbled against his shoulder, and Liam knew that he was trying for a smile, even though he couldn’t see his face.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Liam said nonchalantly, thinking that nothing that Louis could have swirling around in his head could even hold a candle to the introspective craziness in his own. He’d done almost nothing but brood for the past few years, after all.

Liam made a point of keeping the topics of conversation upbeat from then on.

Eventually Louis reached down to where Liam’s duvet was bunched down at the end of the bed and pulled it up, draping it over himself and Liam, shifting so that his head lay in Liam’s lap, facing away from him.

“You’re cooking me breakfast in the morning.” Louis said matter-of-factly, and even if Liam wanted to disagree, he couldn’t, because he knew that if Louis asked him to walk all the way across the city to get croissants and tea from a specific café in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, he probably would. Wholly without complaint.

Liam hummed, trying to think of what food, if any, that was intended specifically for breakfast he actually had in his fridge.

“Are eggs okay? Dunno what else I have, to be honest.” Liam said, reaching back to scratch the back of his neck.

“Just none of that green shit.” Louis replied, turning his head to grin sleepily up at Liam.

Liam could manage that.

 

* * *

 

 

Liam stayed up for a while, chain-smoking in an attempt to ease his paranoia about Louis disappearing if he closed his eyes, even for a moment.

However, three AM had soon rolled around and Liam could feel exhaustion setting in, his eyes thick and heavy with grogginess, so he took one final drag of his cigarette before putting it out, letting the butt of it join the rest in the ashtray. He reached over to switch his lamp off before gently easing Louis out of his lap and onto the other side of the bed, immediately wrapping an arm around his middle, keeping him close. He pressed a gentle kiss to Louis’ neck and let himself stay there, just listening to Louis’ slow, even breathing as he slept. It was methodical. It was constant.

 _Just make yourself at home._ Liam had considered telling him earlier. But he decided that he didn’t need to. He already knew that Louis had.

 

* * *

 

  
An ear-splittingly loud high-pitched noise ripped Liam from his sleep and he immediately untangled himself from Louis to find that the screen of his mobile on the bedside table had gone completely, blindingly white, illuminating the entire left half of his room in the grey-blue glow. He reached over to grab it to stop the agonizing sound, but as soon as he got a grip on it, it singed his hand, the skin immediately going pink and raw with the burn. But then he heard another sound cut through the screeching that drew all attention away from the throbbing of his hand.

“ _Liam?_ ” He heard a very faint voice say, its tone quivering and quaking, and Liam stood from the bed and turned to find a translucent, pale apparition standing over Louis’ body, and it only took Liam a millisecond to piece together what had happened.

Liam was in shock. He simply shook his head and clamped his hands over his ears, the screeching noise from his mobile only getting louder and louder as he mumbled “no, no, _no_ ” repeatedly to himself, as if that was going to change anything, as if it was going to pull him out of this nightmare and back into his bed with Louis with his face pressed into the warmth of his neck.

The glowing form standing over Louis’ body was in Liam’s hoodie. Liam couldn’t bring himself to look at his face. He knew the _look_ and he couldn’t bear to see it on Louis. The _look_ was the expression that was plastered onto almost every face when he came to help them to move on—confusion, sorrow, guilt, as if _they_ did something wrong, as though Liam was not at all the one who was responsible.

“ _Liam,_ ” The distant voice said again, more urgent this time, and Liam glanced up to find that Louis had begun to slowly fade. Louis remained completely still, though, only his eyes moving from his body to Liam. Eerily calm. When Louis’ eyes had met his own, Liam could feel his heart shatter in his chest. He could feel that untapped reservoir of grief inside of him spilling over and he had no idea what to do, he was frozen, watching as Louis’ eyes clouded with fear and his cheekbones sunk into his skin like indigo bruises.

Liam ran over to Louis’ apparition and wrapped his arms around him, knowing what would happen if he did, but fearing what else may have if he didn’t. Liam held Louis close, a hand running soothingly through his hair, whispering a promise of “You’re okay,” against his temple, though he was completely unsure of whether it was true or not. He felt Louis’ arms wrap around him as well and they both immediately vanished, appearing once more in a void completely washed with black. Liam’s eyes were squeezed shut and Louis was still locked in Liam’s grip, trembling.

And suddenly he screamed, causing Liam’s eyes to shoot open just in time to watch his hands melting through Louis’ skin, singing it red and black wherever he touched in contrast to the chill of the air around them, so cold that Liam could feel it take root inside of him and begin to bloom until it was a part of him.

Wind howled around them and it felt as though they were trapped in a tornado that was trying to tear them apart, and Louis’ screams eventually got louder and louder to the point where Liam couldn’t stand to hurt him any longer. He had to let go.

Louis began to sob as the grip of the wind took him, reaching out for Liam as Liam reached out for him. Their fingertips just barely grazed each other’s before Louis was pulled upward and Liam was cast downward, Louis’ screams for Liam audible for what seemed like an eternity as Liam continued to fall, only beginning to fade once Louis’ white glow was no longer visible against the infinite canvas of black.

When Liam opened his eyes again, he was back in his room, and all traces of Louis—his body, his clothes, even the beer bottles that he had touched--- were gone.

**Author's Note:**

> [liarnjamespayne.tumblr.com](http://liarnjamespayne.tumblr.com) :-)


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